


The Narrow of the Margin

by Rochelle_Templer



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Gen, also references to abuse, brief descriptions of violence, plenty of angst and fluff here folks, which...is par for the course for me...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-14 22:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15398529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Templer/pseuds/Rochelle_Templer
Summary: When Booth and Brennan are caught up in a hostage situation with no way out, it falls upon Sweets to negotiate their way to safety.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic some time ago when I was creating my own elaborate head canons for Sweets' background. I realize that some of this has been dismantled by later seasons of canon, but I can't give up my own head canon so easily. XD
> 
> At any rate, I hope my readers will enjoy some of my "ideas that could have been" too.
> 
> As far as the time-line goes, this takes place toward the end of Season Five.

Even though normally it was one of his favorite activities, Doctor Lance Sweets was barely listening to the playful bickering that was coming from the front seat of the car he was riding in. He was sitting in the back seat of Booth’s SUV, and Booth and Brennan were in the front having another one of their banter sessions. The three of them were going to a high end jewelry store to interview the owner about one of his former employees, a Michael Connor. Sweets had come along to get more information for the profile that he was building on Connor.

Connor, as it turned out, had recently become a serial bomber. It had started with the destruction of a couple of abandoned buildings. However, he soon moved on to buildings that were still in use. The first one was a business that had closed for the evening; so fortunately, there was no one there at the time. But the next one had some late-night shift workers who were killed from the explosion, and then a security guard had been shot near the scene of yet another explosion that killed even more people. Thus far, eleven people had been killed. Even more disturbing were the cryptic and paranoid sounding notes that were left at each scene. The suspect, Connor, had actually taken responsibility for the bombings early on, but had also dropped out of sight after the second one.

Booth had been assigned the case, and he had asked for Sweets’ help when he saw the letters that Connor was leaving at the scenes. Brennan and the staff at the Jeffersonian had been called in to identify the victims at each explosion site since their specialty was identifying remains without much to work with, which was often the case after each attack.

Both Sweets and Booth quickly saw a pattern in the bombings: all the buildings had some sort of significance in Connor’s life at some point. Sometimes it was places he used to live at, other times it was former employers. Using that information, Booth was able to draw up a list of four possible future targets, including this jewelry store that they were going to, since Connor had not only worked there seven years ago, he had bought his ex-wife’s engagement ring there.

They pulled into the parking lot of the store and Booth and Brennan got out of the car. But Sweets was still scanning his files and making notes.

“Hey, Sweets,” Booth said, poking his head back into the car. “Aren’t you coming with us?” Sweets shook his head and didn’t look up from his work.

"No, I need to finish up my thoughts here,” he said. “You go ahead and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Gotcha. Let’s go Bones…Oh and Sweets, make sure you lock up the car when you’re done.” They then slammed the doors shut and walked inside.

Sweets sighed; he considered Booth a friend, but he was still amazed at how much he was treated like a kid by him. He didn’t let it bother him though; he knew it was Booth’s nature to be paternal and protective of the people he cared about. Secretly, Sweets was a bit flattered that Booth felt the need to be that way with him.

After finishing the file he was working on, Sweets leaned back in his seat and looked over what he had written.

 _'Connor showed no signs of being capable of this kind of violence before this started. But now he has taken to killing innocent bystanders in his bombings and directly confronting and killing anyone who could stop him in his quest,’_ he thought to himself. He put his notes and files down and sat up.

_‘His psychosis is beginning to spiral out of control and he’s escalating his attacks as a result. The next one will probably be even more audacious and lethal than the other ones have been thus far.’_

Sweets got out of the car, and began to walk toward the store. He stopped, however, at the sound of gunfire coming from within.

* * *

 

Booth and Brennan walked into the store and were surrounded by glass cases that held numerous diamonds in almost any setting imaginable. There were several people, customers and employees, milling around. Soon, a man in a conservative, but expensive looking suit approached the two of them. He looked to be in his fifties and was a rather short, balding man.

“Hello, I’m Arthur Fisk, the owner,” the man smiled. “What can I do for you today? Perhaps something special for the fine lady here?”

“Actually, I consider the act of buying gemstones whose value have been inflated by cultural expectations to be…”

“Special Agent Seeley Booth,” Booth said, cutting her off and taking out his badge to show to Fisk. “This is my partner, Doctor Brennan. We spoke on the phone, and we’re here to talk about your former employee, Michael Connor.”

“Yes, yes, well can we discuss this in my office? Don’t want to spook the clientele,” Fisk said. He let the to a side room that faced the show room. It was made up walls that had large glass windows, making it possible to see the main show area from inside. Next to the door was a keypad that Fisk punched some sort of code into. There was a ‘click’ as the door unlocked and the three of them went inside.

“We can talk freely here,” Fisk said. “These windows are soundproof and bulletproof.”

“Interesting set-up,” Booth nodded.

“Yes, well years ago I had a robbery here, and since then I’ve taken precautions,” Fisk said. “All the windows in the store are bulletproof, and my office here requires a security code to get in. The bulk of my merchandise is in a safe in the back of the store, a nearly impossible to crack safe I might add. Plus, with this set-up I can keep an eye on my employees.”

“Why is that necessary?” Brennan asked. “I assume you also have video cameras for security and there is that guard by the door.”

“Well, I’m a little old-fashioned, but I think everyone works a little harder knowing that the boss is looking over their shoulder,” Fisk grinned.

Booth was barely listening to this exchange; he was watching the customers go in and out of the store. No one struck him as suspicious: there were two couples who looked to be buying engagement rings, a group of ladies ogling some diamond tennis bracelets in a case toward the back, and a man in an overcoat facing away from him, who was admiring some necklaces in a case near the door.

Booth’s cell phone went off and he answered it to find Cam on the line. She reported that Hodgins had figured out the chemical composition of the latest bomb from some particulates found on some remains that were the nearest to the explosion.

“It looks like a pretty sophisticated bomb,” Cam noted. “Not something your average criminal on the street would come up with.”

“Thanks Cam, we’ll stop…”

Booth was cut off by the sound of gunfire. He looked back toward the show room to see that the man near the necklaces had turned around and pulled out a gun. Booth recognized him as Connor from his photos. Connor was shooting wildly around the store. He shot the security guard near the door and one bullet hit the keypad next to Fisk’s office. A shower of sparks and smoke came from the keypad. Booth pulled his gun and grabbed at the doorknob, but it was locked.

“Open this door,” Booth ordered. Fisk reluctantly punched in the code with a shaking hand. But it would not unlock.

Outside, Connor, a tall wiry man, took off his overcoat and revealed a large device that looked like another bomb strapped to his body.

“Nobody moves,” he screamed. “Or…BOOM!” The customers and employees huddled to the floor, crying and whimpering.

Booth continued to try to open the door with no success.

“Why won’t it open?” Booth said frustrated.

“He must have shot out the electric lock,” Fisk trembled.

“Is there some sort of manual override?” Brennan asked.

“Yes, a key…the security guard has it,” Fisk answered. Booth grimaced; he was pretty sure the guard was dead.

“Booth…Booth, what’s going on?” Cam’s voice rung out over the phone. Booth had dropped his cell phone in the excitement. He picked it back up to talk to her.

“It’s Connor,” he said. “He’s here and he’s got a bomb and at least one gun.”

“Are you guys all right?”

“We’re fine. Bones and I are locked in this office with bulletproof walls and we can’t get out,” Booth answered. “Call Hacker and tell him what’s going on so he can send a team out.”

“Will do and you two be careful,” Cam said, hanging up.

“At least we’re safe. He can’t shoot us,” Fisk said, hopeful.

“Yeah, but I doubt these windows will save us from that bomb,” Booth muttered.

* * *

 

Back at the Jeffersonian, Cam had just finished phoning Hacker, when Angela and Hodgins walked into her office.

“What’s going on?” Angela asked. Cam informed them of the situation. Angela’s eyes grew wide as she listened.

“I’m going over there,” Angela said, turning to walk out.

“Wait…” Cam called after her.

“Hey Ange, I’ll drive you,” Hodgins said, following her. Cam looked down for a moment and sighed; there was nothing pressing at the Medico-Legal lab right now, and she knew where she secretly wanted to be as well.

“Wait you two,” she said walking out of her office. “Let’s all go together.”

* * *

 

Outside the jewelry store, Sweets was crouching behind Booth’s SUV. He had already made a call of his own to the FBI and was now waiting for them to show up. He leaned against the car and stared at the store.

‘It’s Connor…it has to be…’ Sweets thought. ‘He decided to make this his next target.’

Suddenly he remembered that Booth and Brennan were inside. He yanked his cell phone back out of his pocket and hit his speed dial.

“Sweets? Where are you?” Booth answered a hint of panic in his voice. With everything that happened, Booth had forgotten about Sweets being with them.

“I’m by the car,” he answered. “Are you and Doctor Brennan all right?”

“We’re fine,” Booth said relief coloring his tone. “We’re locked up in the owner’s office and we can’t get out. Connor’s in here with another bomb and he’s armed. He’s already killed the security guard.”

“I called the office,” Sweets said. “There should be a team here soon.”

“Yeah, Cam is doing the same thing,” Booth said. “Listen Sweets, you stay with the car, and keep out of sight, you got that? Stay put until help arrives.”

“I will…be careful,” Sweets said. Booth then hung up.

Sweets went back to staring at the store.

 _‘This is is…the violent attack that he has been building up to,’_ he thought. _‘He must be near a breaking point in his psychosis.’_

He thought again of Booth and Brennan; if Connor was near his breaking point, there was no telling what he would do. The two of them were in very real danger. Sweets was scared, but he also felt helpless, both of which were feelings that he hated.

_‘I want to do something to help them…but what?’_


	2. Chapter 2

In less than an hour, what had been a mostly empty parking lot was now clogged with vehicles of every sort. The FBI had shown up, as well as the local police and fire department. Hacker had come with a SWAT team and a bomb squad. Hodgins had to park down the street when he arrived, but he, Angela and Cam were able to get past the police barricades with a nod from Hacker. Now, Hacker and a couple of his men were in a group with Sweets and the Jeffersonian staff, weighing their options for what the next move would be.

“We’ve been able to communicate with Agent Booth from the inside,” one of the agents reported. “He’s told us that Connor is in there alone with ten to twelve hostages including Booth and Doctor Brennan. Connor has a handgun, possibly more than one, and he has a bomb strapped to his body. From the description Booth gave us, it’s the same type of bomb used in the other attacks.”

“Any possibility that Agent Booth could help us subdue him?” Hacker asked. The agent shook his head.

“None,” he answered. “He, the owner and Doctor Brennan are locked electronically in the owner’s office and the only person who has a key is the security guard, who Booth is pretty certain is already dead.”

Sweets swallowed hard at that. When he heard about Connor’s shooting spree in the store, he became increasingly concerned.

_‘Connor is becoming more violent. The slightest provocation could set him off.’_

At that point, he was glad that Booth and Brennan were locked in that office; Connor would probably want to kill Booth if he were to learn that he was an FBI agent.

“What about using a sniper to take him out?” Hacker said.

“No good. The owner apparently has placed bulletproof glass on all of the windows, and he made one of the employees close all the blinds and windows. So not only can we not see in there, it’s doubtful we could even shoot through the glass.”

“Perfect,” Hacker sighed, rubbing his eyes. “And with that bomb and those hostages, storming the place is not an option either.”

“So, what do we do?” Cam interjected. Hacker shook his head.

“Our only options are either trying to slip an agent in to take him out or send in a negotiator. Apparently, Connor’s been on the phone with us and he’s been screaming for someone to go in to talk to him, so these seem like our best choices.”

“Sir, you can’t send in an agent,” Sweets piped in. Hacker gave him a cold stare.

“And why not Doctor Sweets?”

“I’ve been working up a profile of this man for over a week,” Sweets answered. “I can tell you that he suffers from clinical paranoia and delusions. He believes that the government is out to get him personally. If we send in an agent, and that agent is discovered, Connor is likely to perceive that as a direct attack from the government. He will then set off that bomb rather than be taken alive.”

“Well then how about a negotiator?” Hacker said. Sweets shook his head.

“Connor does not want to negotiate,” he said. “All the letters that he’s left at the crime scenes, they all point to some kind of endgame that he has in mind for himself. He is what you would call a mixed serial offender.”

“Which is what exactly?” Angela asked.

“Connor shows some qualities of what is known as an organized offender: he plans ahead, he makes sophisticated bombs, and he had a highly technical white collar job,” Sweets explained. “But he also shows some traits of a disorganized offender: the rambling letters left at the scenes, the recent shootings accompanying the bombings and an overly strict, borderline abusive family background.”

“And all this boils down to what?” Hacker asked.

“The worst of both worlds,” Sweets gulped. “Someone who is smart enough to set this all up and crazy enough to not care about the outcome.”

“Oh God,” Angela breathed, putting her hand to her mouth. “Brennan and Booth…” Hodgins put his arm around her.

“It’ll be ok, Ange,” he said.

“Well we can’t just sit here and do nothing,” Hacker said.

“Sir, I think our only option is a direct assault,” one of the agents said.

“No, you can’t do that,” Angela exclaimed. “Then that psycho will blow them all up.”

Sweets stood back and listened to the arguing around him. _‘_

 _'Connor is insane…if he even thinks there will be an attack, he will set off that bomb,’_ he thought.

_‘Apparently Connor’s been screaming for someone to go in to talk to him…’_

Sweets trembled as he considered what the agent had said.

 _‘There’s only one choice,’_ Sweets decided.

“I’ll go in,” Sweets said, causing everyone to turn and look at him. “I’ll go in and try to reason with him.”

“Whoa, what do you think you’re doing, Doctor Sweets?” Cam said. “You can’t go in there.”

“Sir, I’ve spent the last week getting to know every facet of Connor’s life,” Sweets persisted, ignoring Cam. “I know him better than everyone here. Plus, I have experience in dealing with clinically insane people. I…I have to be the one to do it.”

“You can’t be seriously considering this?” Cam said, turning to Hacker. “Sweets is a shrink not an agent. He could be killed.”

“And if we don’t do something, everyone in that building will die,” Sweets retorted. Hacker heaved another sigh.

“Get me Agent Booth on the phone again,” he said. After dialing Booth’s cell phone, an agent handed the phone to Hacker.

“Booth, what’s the situation now?” he asked.

“Nothing’s changed,” Booth answered. “Connor just keeps wandering around the place, ranting about some ‘shadowy forces’ that are ruining his and everyone else’s life.”

“Does he still want to talk to someone?”

“Yeah,” Booth answered. “It’s about the only coherent thing he’s said in the past hour. Why, are you thinking of sending someone in?” Hacker sighed and hung his head slightly.

“We are actually,” he said. “We’re hoping he can lure Connor out here where we can take care of him.” Booth snorted.

“Well whoever it is, he has more guts than brains. This guy is certifiable, and he has a hair trigger temper. One of the employees sneezed and Connor just about blew his head off.” Sweets shook a little at that, but maintained the look of resolve on his face.

“I’ll make sure he’s aware of the stakes,” Hacker responded. “You just sit tight and tell Tempe that everything will be fine.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her that,” Booth said with more than a little sarcasm in his voice. He then hung up. Hacker turned to Sweets.

“All right, Doctor Sweets. We’ll go with your plan,” he said. He then waved one of the other agents over. “Get this man a vest.”

Sweets took off his suit jacket and handed it to Angela. Soon an agent came with a bulletproof vest and helped Sweets into it.

“Now remember, your job is to get Connor out here so that we can either subdue him or take him out if necessary,” Hacker told him. “But whatever you do, make sure he does not set off that bomb.”

“I understand,” Sweets nodded.

“Sweetie are you sure about this?” Angela asked. Sweets nodded again. Hodgins patted his arm.

“Hey man, good luck,” he said.

“Thanks,” Sweets said. Cam placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Be careful Doctor Sweets,” she said somberly.

“I will. Thank you Doctor Saroyan.”

His vest firmly in place, Sweets began to slowly walk toward the building while Hacker got on the phone with Connor to let him know that they were sending in someone to talk. Cam shook her head while she watched Sweets go in.

“Well it’s official,” she said.

“What’s official?” Hodgins asked.

“If Booth was merely irritated with Hacker before, he will positively despise him once he sees Sweets walk in there,” she responded.

* * *

 

As Sweets made his way to the door, a cold sweat began to build on his brow. He found that he couldn’t stop his hand from shaking as he opened the door.

_‘Cam’s right. I’m not an agent. What will I do if he starts shooting again? Or worse if he tries to set off that bomb?’_

Near the door, Sweets could see the body of the security gurard. The guard was completely still and blood had pooled around his torso. Sweets swallowed hard and tried to not be sick.

 _‘If I say the wrong thing…make the slightest mistake…everyone in here will die.’_ Suddenly his hand brushed across the vest he was wearing and he looked down at it.

_‘If Connor sees me in this vest, he’ll just focus on that and see me as yet another agent of the government that is out to get him. He can’t think that I work in law enforcement in any way.’_

He knew it was a dangerous and foolhardy move, but Sweets slowly peeled off the bulletproof vest and dropped it to the ground. He then took a deep breath, put his hands up and walked in toward Connor.

* * *

 

Meanwhile Booth was pacing around Fisk’s office. Fisk had turned on the intercom so that Booth could listen to what Connor was saying and they were treated to a long, confused speech declaring the need to “end the tyranny of the shadow forces”.

“What are they doing out there?” Fisk whined. Booth gave him a dirty look and the owner fell silent.

“Do you think Andrew’s plan will work?” Brennan asked.

“If you ask me, I think it’s a little crazy to send someone in here,” Booth sighed. “But they probably don’t have many ideas that don’t involve people getting killed. I just hope whoever they send in knows what he’s doing.”

Noticing movement from the door, both Booth and Brennan moved closer to the glass so that they could see who it was coming in.

“It’s Sweets,” Brennan said, surprised.

They watched as Sweets approached Connor, his hands open and his arms up. Brennan looked over at Booth and noticed that he was clenching his jaw tight.

At that moment, Booth didn’t know what angered him more: that Hacker had sent Sweets in or the fact that he wasn’t wearing a vest.


	3. Chapter 3

Locked in Fisk’s office, Booth could not stop pacing as he watched Sweets walk over to Connor. The psychologist was definitely nervous and more than likely scared.

“What is Sweets doing here?” he growled.

“Well even though psychology is a soft science, I assume that Andrew thought that it would be a good idea to send Doctor Sweets in to deal with him since Connor is clearly insane,” Brennan answered. Booth had stopped pacing and was watching both Connor and Sweets intensely.

“He has no business coming in here and confronting an armed and extremely dangerous suspect,” he said darkly. “He’s just a shrink…he could get hurt or worse…”

“At least someone is finally doing something,” Fisk whined again, causing Booth and Brennan to look over at him. Booth had to suppress the urge to scare him into being quiet again. Instead he turned back toward the show room and watched Sweets.

“Why the hell isn’t he wearing a vest?” he muttered. Booth knew then that there was going to be a long and heated discussion with Hacker in his future.

* * *

 

Inside the show room, Sweets continued his slow, careful pace toward Connor. Connor regarded him at first with surprise and then with confusion.

“Who are you?” he said with a shrill to his voice while waving his gun at him. Sweets gulped and took a deep breath.

“I…I’m Doctor Lance Sweets,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “You said that you wanted to talk to someone, so I’m here.” Connor looked him over a couple times, the gun still pointed in his direction.

“Doctor?....Wait, you’re a shrink, aren’t you?”

 _‘Well at least he’s not making a crack about my age,’_ Sweets thought to himself in a dark humor.

“I’m a therapist…I listen to people,” he said softly, his hands still raised upward. “And I think you have a lot that you need to say, so why not talk to me?”

“You…you want to listen to me…and hear everything? Hear the truth?”

“Yes, I do,” Sweets nodded. “Please tell me everything.” Connor lowered the gun and Sweets sighed in relief as he lowered his hands.

“I don’t know where to start,” Connor said. “It’s all so much, you know.”

“Just start from anywhere,” Sweets said gently.

“It’s…it’s them…They are in every part of your life, you know. They think of themselves as the government, but I see them for what they truly are…Shadow forces…do you know what they do to those who know?” Sweets shook his head.

“They take over your thoughts…you can’t escape them,” Connor answered. “Even when you tell yourself that you’re not going to think about them, all you can think about is how you’re trying to not think about them.”

“Yes, I understand,” Sweets said calmly.

He continued to give Connor his undivided attention while he went further into how the “shadow forces” were trying to control his mind and his memories.

“So, the reason you are bombing these buildings is because once they are gone, you no longer have to think about them, and the shadow forces can no longer control your memories of them,” Sweets deduced.

“Yes, exactly,” Connor said, his eyes lighting up. He walked closer to Sweets, a smile forming on his face.

“You’re not like the others. You really understand.” Sweets tried giving him a slight smile back.

But after smiling at him silently for another minute, Connor took his gun and placed it firmly against Sweets’ forehead. Sweets flinched; the muzzle was still slightly warm, and the metal was pressed hard against his skin.

“Now tell me what you really want, Doctor Sweets,” Connor said, still smiling. “Tell me or else.”

Sweets trembled. He tried to stay composed and keep the fear out of his eyes. But he was worried that he was failing miserably.

* * *

 

One person that noticed his fear was Booth. Sweets and Connor were only a few feet away from him so he could easily see the look on Sweets’ face. He stood as close as he could to the glass. His expression was unreadable, but his posture was clearly tense.

“What’s he doing? Why won’t he answer?” Fisk said with a touch of hysteria in his voice. “Is he trying to get us all killed?”

Brennan noted the intense look in Booth’s eyes and the angry stance that he was in. She had come to recognize that look as the one he had whenever someone he cared about was threatened. She had seen it many times when they worked cases together.

“Mr. Fisk, I think it would be better if you ceased conversing,” she said. Fisk gave her a pained expression, but slumped back in his chair and looked down at the carpet quietly.

Booth ignored this conversation and focused his attention on the scene outside the office.

 _‘You can do this, Sweets…Just stay calm,’_ he thought.

* * *

 

Sweets tried to swallow around the lump in his throat before answering.

“I know you want all of this to stop,” he said. “That’s why you’re here today…so that you can make it stop: the mind control, the watching of your every move and the persecution from the shadow forces…You want to make it stop. I want to help you with that.”

“How can you help me?” Connor said, moving the gun away from Sweets’ forehead. Sweets took a shaky breath once it was gone.

“We can go outside,” Sweets suggested. “There are people out there who can take us to a secure location. Once we are there, the two of us can sit down and talk about how we can stop the takeover of your thoughts and memories…After all, that’s what you want, isn’t it? To be free of their control?”

Connor shook his head back and forth vigorously.

“Nuh-uh. I’m not going out there. I’m staying right here. If I go out there, they’ll get me for sure.”

Connor then reached down onto his belt and pulled off a small device that was sticking by a strip of Velcro. He kept tracing his fingers over the buttons on it.

“I’d rather die than let them get me,” Connor screamed.

Several of the customers and employees crouched even closer to the ground and began to weep at the sight of what Sweets assumed was the trigger device for the bomb. Sweets put his hands out in front of him in what he hoped would be perceived as a nonthreatening gesture.

“No…you don’t have to do that,” he said. “You don’t have to die. No one has to die here…We can just stay here for now, if you want.”

Connor looked like he was going to hyperventilate, but he stop playing with the device in his hand and reattached it to his belt.

“There, now we can talk for a while longer,” Sweets assured him.

A sudden sound from the back of the show room caused both Sweets and Connor to turn toward it. One of the women who had been admiring the tennis bracelets earlier was rising to her feet, her eyes large and watery.

“No…no more talking,” she cried. “We’ve had to listen to it for almost two hours now…Two hours of your stupid conspiracy theories…I can’t take it anymore…I can’t take any more of that nonsense.” Sweets swiftly strode over to stand beside her and patted her shoulder.

“It’s ok,” he said. “Calm down.”  Connor’s face turned red and he was livid.

“Shut up,” he yelled. He then aimed and shot the woman square in the chest, barely missing Sweets in the process. She fell to the ground and a large stain of blood quickly bloomed onto her shirt. From the way that her eyes stared up at him, unmoving, Sweets knew she was dead.

 _‘No…he didn’t need to do that…she was just scared,’_ he thought.

“You see…you see that Doctor Sweets?” Connor screeched. “You see why I had to do that, don’t you? She was one of them…She was….You see that, right?”

Sweets nodded in agreement, hoping to soothe him, but he kept stealing glances at the woman on the floor. Her unseeing eyes seemed to be looking straight at him, almost like an accusation.

_‘It’s my fault…I shouldn’t have suggested going outside yet, it was too soon…I agitated him too much...and now someone else is dead.’_

* * *

 

“It’s not your fault, Sweets,” Booth muttered. He had watched Connor murder that woman, and while he was angry that it happened, initially, he been grateful that Connor had missed hitting Sweets. But then as Booth watched the psychologist’s eyes grow shiny, he could guess what Sweets was thinking.

Brennan thought about mentioning to Booth that there was no way that Sweets could hear them, but changed her mind.

“Of course it’s not his fault,” Brennan mused instead. “He didn’t fire the gun or encourage Connor to shoot her. Doctor Sweets is intelligent enough to reason out that he is not to blame.”

Booth just shook his head and continued to watch Sweets.

 _‘Being smart enough to know better doesn’t always mean that you listen to reason,’_ he thought.

He remembered how affected Sweets was when he was in that subway accident and a man he was talking to hit his head and died right in front of him. Sweets had been badly shaken and had taken the death rather hard even though the man was a total stranger to him.

 _'That thing in the subway…that was a total accident. A freak occurrence that had nothing_ _to do with him. But this….’_

Booth ground his teeth. This was one of the reasons why he didn’t want Sweets involved in the first place; he didn’t want to expose him to this sort of thing.

_‘Just relax and hang in there, Sweets…’_

* * *

 

“It’s all right now,” Sweets said with a slight quaver to his voice. He walked back toward Connor, his arms out and his hands making a patting motion downward. He didn’t want anyone else to get any ideas and hoped that if he remained composed, the other people would follow his lead and remain quiet. “No one else is going to try anything.” Looking around the room, Sweets prayed that he was right about that.

“You see, don’t you?” Connor said, almost tearful. “They put those thoughts in her head, and she became another puppet for them, spewing out their ideas…But she’s lucky now…she won’t be used by them anymore.” Connor put his hand to his head and rubbed his temple.

“I didn’t want to kill her,” he said. “But I had to…but at least now she will be free of their mind control.”

“You don’t want to kill people, do you?” Sweets asked. “That’s why you’re sorry that you killed her…isn’t that right?”

“Yeah,” Connor nodded weakly. “That’s right…not unless I have to.”

“Of course…of course only if you have to,” Sweets agreed. “So let’s make it so that you don’t have to. Let’s let these people go…just have them walk out the front door. Then the two of us can talk alone and they won’t have a chance to fill your mind with any more of their ideas.”

Connor suddenly narrowed his eyes at Sweets.

“What are you saying? Are you saying that I can’t shut out their mind control? That I’m too weak? Too weak to resist them?” Sweets immediately shook his head.

“No…not at all…I’m not…”

But he was cut off when Connor struck him in the head with his gun. The blow caused Sweets to fall to the ground and see stars. Despite the pain and the disorientation, Sweets struggled back up to his knees. He touched the side of his head and could feel blood starting to dribble down from a gash that had been opened up on his temple near his eye.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Booth had gone back to trying to break the door down. He first tried kicking it, and then he took his shoulder to it, but to no avail. The door did not budge an inch.

“It’s no use Agent Booth,” Fisk said in a small voice. “That door is solid.”

Booth stopped trying, but he still pounded his fist against the door in frustration.

“Just be glad that madman can’t get in here,” Fisk added.

While watching Booth walk back to the window, his hands still balled up into fists, Brennan doubted that that fact was any comfort to him.

* * *

 

Sweets was still on his knees, trying to think straight again when he felt a hand grab his hair and yank him upright. He rose to his feet unsteadily and gasped when Connor wrapped his arm around his neck, holding him close. Sweets grabbed at Connor’s forearm, trying to loosen it from against his throat, but Connor had a vice-like grip fueled by mania and madness.

“I should kill you right now for trying to mess with my head,” Connor hissed in his ear as he placed the gun to Sweets’ temple. The psychologist closed his eyes.

_‘He’s going to kill me…I’m going to die now…’_

Then another urgent thought filled his mind.

_‘No…I can’t die yet…I still have to save Booth and Brennan…and everyone else…I have to think of something….’_


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re just like everyone else…like my old man,” Connor said, the gun shaking in his grip. “He always said I was weak too…”

As he said that, inspiration finally came to Sweets. He began to remember Connor’s file.

 _‘Borderline abusive family background…There had been no official reports, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t spiral into full-on abuse,’_ he thought.  _‘Probably his father made him feel weak and helpless, thus his need to control the situations in his life as much as possible.’_

Sweets sniffled a bit while he tried to reign in his fear. He didn’t want to share anything with this psychopath…especially not this…but he knew he had to regain Connor’s trust.

And this would be the best way to do it.

“No…I’m not like your father,” Sweets gasped. “I know how it is when your father doesn’t believe in you…doesn’t even see you as human. But just as a liability, a nothing.”

To his relief, Sweets felt him loosen his grip and move the gun away from his temple.

“You try to do everything right, thinking that maybe he would be proud of you or at the very least maybe he would love you,” Sweets continued. “But it doesn’t matter because everything you do is wrong, no matter what it is.”

Connor suddenly let Sweets go and shoved him away from him. Sweets coughed and rubbed his throat; he still felt unsteady and nauseous due to the blow to his head. But he worked hard at keeping his thoughts straight and alert.

“Yeah, that sounds just like my old man,” Connor breathed. He then cocked his head at Sweets.

“You dad…your old man…that’s how he was with you, wasn’t it?” Sweets nodded affirmatively and Connor shook his head.

“My old man…nothing was good enough for him,” Connor ranted. “He was always telling me to ‘suck it up’ and ‘be a man’. And if I wasn’t enough of a man for him…he tried to make me one with a firm backhand to the face.”  He then looked sideways at Sweets.

“Tell me…what did your father do? When you didn’t measure up?”

The psychologist gulped; he did not want to get into this. But Connor was still very wary and wired. He knew that it wouldn’t be wise to defy him in this state.

“I…He would hit me…with his hand or his belt,” Sweets mumbled. “He…he told me I was worthless…Sometimes he would lock me in a closet and not let me out to eat or anything else for a long time…” Connor nodded sympathetically.

“What else?” he said, still nervously fingering the trigger of the gun. Sweets shook his head.

“I don’t think that I should have to…”

“Tell me,” Connor said aiming his gun at him again. “Or are you just making this up?” That thought prompted a look of rage from Connor and he quickly became agitated again.

“Is that why you won’t tell me? Because you’re just saying all this so that I’ll feel sympathy for you…so I’ll think that you really understand…Is that what you’re doing, Doctor Sweets?”

“No, I’m not lying,” Sweets said, resolute.

“Then prove it,” Connor seethed. “Prove to me that you’re not lying.”

Sweets felt his eyes tear up again; he knew that there was one way to prove once and for all that he wasn’t lying. But it was painful and humiliating for him. He then looked around at the frightened people huddled on the ground, and he knew that he would have to put his own feelings aside so that no one else would get hurt.

“If…if I can convince you that I’m not lying, will you let these other people go?” Sweets said shakily. “I promise, I won’t leave, but just let these others go.” Connor stared at the floor for a moment, swaying on his feet. Then he looked up and nodded.

“All right,” he said. “If I believe you, I’ll let the people in here go. But not them.” He pointed at the room where Booth, Brennan and Fisk were watching them.

“I’m not letting them or you go,” Connor said. “But the people here can leave.”

It was far from what he wanted, but Sweets knew that he needed to accept this compromise so that no one else would get shot.

“All right, that’s fine,” Sweets said. He then pulled off his tie and began to fumble with the buttons on his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Connor said in a voice that was more curious than anything else. Sweets ignored him and tried to focus his mind anywhere else rather than think about what he was doing.  Once it was unbuttoned, he turned his back toward Connor and lowered his shirt down, exposing his shoulders.

“Jesus,” Connor whispered.

“My father did this to me when I was five,” Sweets said, his voice swimming with tears. “He…he hated me so much that he took a whip to me and then left me in a locked closet to die…I was just lucky that a social worker found me before it was too late.” Sweets then pulled his shirt back up and hastily began re-buttoning it.

“You…you weren’t lying…you really do know,” Connor said with awe and disgust in his voice.

* * *

 

From the other side of the glass, Booth didn’t even hear the reactions of Brennan or Fisk. All he could see and hear were Sweets’ pained words and the scars on his back.

Booth had already known of the scars’ existence; Brennan had told both him and Wyatt one day that she had seen them and where she thought Sweets got them from. He knew all too well about abusive fathers and the pain they could inflict on children.

But none of that prepared him for how he felt while seeing Sweets’ back and hearing his story.

Booth grew angry again and went back to pacing. He had let Sweets know how he felt about sharing his background and made it clear to the psychologist that he was to never bring it up in therapy. And in return, Booth decided that he would never push Sweets into telling him about his unhappy childhood. If Sweets wanted to share, he would listen, but he would never initiate the conversation. Now, Sweets was being forced to expose publically what was sure to be painful and embarrassing memories just to appease a bomb wielding psycho.

_‘He shouldn’t have to do this…not just to make that lunatic happy.’_

But Booth knew that what was truly making him angry was what Sweets’ father had done to him in the first place.

* * *

 

“Ok, I’ve kept my end of the bargain,” Sweets said, tucking his shirt back into his pants. “Now you need to keep yours.” Connor glared at him for a moment, and then lifted his gun, shooting a bullet in the air. Everyone, including Sweets, jumped.

“All right, move,” Connor screamed. “Out that door, single file…and no one try anything cute.”

The remaining customers and employees shuffled toward the door. Even though they were terrified, they tried to not make any sudden moves for fear of getting shot. They gingerly filed out, taking care to avoid the body of the security guard, and soon Connor and Sweets were alone with Booth, Brennan and Fisk still watching them from the office.

“All right….what now?” Sweets asked. “Did you want to talk some more?” Connor just watched the door, a faraway look in his eye.

“You know…I hadn’t seen my old man for years,” Connor said, dazed. “And then a few weeks ago he shows up at my doorstep. He…he hadn’t changed a bit, just looked older is all…He wanted money from me, I think. I told him I didn’t have it. And then he just started up again telling me how disappointed he was in me…even slapped me around a little.” Connor turned his gaze toward Sweets again.

“I just couldn’t take it anymore,” he said. “I couldn’t take anymore of his abuse…So I fought back…I pushed him to the ground….Turns out though he had heart condition…A coronary, the ambulance people said…I guess the shock of what I did killed him right then and there.”

 _‘That was it…that was the stressor that led to this breakdown,’_ Sweets mused. _‘He had just completed a divorce from his wife and sudden reappearance of his father’s taunting and then his subsequent death pushed him over the edge.’_

“Hey, whatever happened to your old man?” Connor asked him.

“I…I don’t know,” the psychologist answered. ‘He went to prison for a while…but he disappeared after that. I don’t know where he is.” What Sweets didn’t add was that he never bothered to try and find out. He wanted desperately to leave that part of his past in the past and never think about it again.

Connor’s shoulders slumped and he swayed again on his feet.

“I…I’m so tired,” he said quietly. Sweets moved closer to him.

“I understand,” Sweets said. “You’re tired of all this…the bombs, the shadow forces, the feeling of being out of control. You just want to rest…Just rest and have a chance to sort it all out and clear your head.”

“Yeah…yeah, that’s what I want,” Connor said. “I just…I just want to be able to think straight again and to have my own thoughts and not someone else’s.” Sweets patted his shoulder.

“I tell you what…let’s go outside,” he tried again. “We’ll go outside so that we can go somewhere quiet so we can talk things through. Then you can rest.”

“You…you’ll go with me, won’t you, Doctor Sweets?” Connor asked timidly.

“Of course I will,” Sweets nodded. “We’ll go together.”  Connor rubbed his face and sighed heavily.

“All right, I’ll go,” he said. “But you go ahead of me.” Sweets nodded and moved to stand in front of Connor.

“That’s fine,” he said. “I’ll go first.”

The two of them walked toward the door and Sweets slowly opened it.

“Don’t shoot,” he yelled. “We’re coming out.”  Sweets started to walk out, but then he noticed that Connor wasn’t following him. He turned back around to see that Connor had stopped and was standing there shaking as he stared at the array of cars and men waiting outside.

“No…there’s too many of them,” he said. “I…I can’t let them get me…”

Connor reached down for the device on his belt again and Sweets’ eyes grew wide.

_‘No…he’s going to go for it…if he sets it off here, Brennan and Booth will…’_

Sweets turned and made a mad grab for the trigger device, but Connor held him back. The two of them struggled for a bit, but Connor got the better of Sweets, who was still disoriented from the blow to his head. Connor pushed Sweets to the ground where he landed on his back. He then waved the gun at him wildly.

“You tried to trick me,” Connor screamed advancing toward him. “You’ll pay…you all will.”

Sweets opened his mouth to plead with him, but Connor fired before he could say a word.

Just as he did another shot rang out from outside.

* * *

 

Inside the store, Booth could hear Connor’s screams and the shooting, but he could not see what was going on from his vantage point.  He was only certain of two things.

The bomb did not go off.

It was suddenly too quiet.

That silence was broken by the SWAT team running into the store. One of them went over to the woman that Connor shot earlier while another one checked on the security guard. The one near the guard shook his head and then reached for the keys that were attached to the guard’s belt. Once he had them, the agent went over to Fisk’s office and started to try the keys on the door. After the third one, the door opened and everyone rushed out.

Booth ignored the attempts for Brennan and the SWAT team to get his attention and ran to the entrance and walked outside.

Lying on the ground just outside the door was Connor. A single bullet wound had pierced his forehead, and he was dead. The bomb squad was already trying to strip the bomb off of him.

“We need a medic here.”

Booth turned toward the direction of that call to see one of the agents kneeling on the ground. Next to him was Sweets.  The psychologist was unconscious and lying on prone on the pavement. Booth could see the laceration on his temple, but now his shirt was also turning red from blood that coming from a wound in his side. He was pale and still.

“Sweets!” he yelled, rushing over to him. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Sweets? Doctor Sweets? Can you hear me?”

Sweets could hear the gentle voice filtering into his brain. Dulled by drugs and pain, his mind moved slowly to process what he was hearing. He eventually came to the conclusion that it was a woman’s voice that was calling his name. It took a lot of effort, but the psychologist carefully cracked open his eyelids. At first he flinched at the sudden influx of light coming into his eyes, but soon he was able to focus, and see that it was Cam leaning over him.

“Doctor Sweets?” she said again.

Sweets groaned and tried to move. That’s when he realized that he was no longer lying on the pavement, but in a bed. He looked around some more to see Angela, Hodgins and Brennan standing nearby.

“Where…where am I?” he whispered although the answer was swiftly becoming clear to him.

“You’re in the hospital,” Cam smiled. “How do you feel?”

“Weak,” Sweets rasped. He tried to move again and was rewarded with a throbbing ache in his head and a sharp pain in his side. “Hurts…”

“That would be from the combination of the moderate concussion, the bullet graze near your seventh rib, and your loss of blood,” Brennan said. “You were really quite fortunate.  The doctor said that had the bullet gone in an inch to the side, it would have severed some intercostal arteries and you probably would have bled out before we could get you treatment. As it is, you mainly suffered some muscle tissue damage.”

“In other words, a flesh wound,” Cam said. Brennan made a face.

“I’ve never understood why people continue to use such a vague term,” she said. “Doesn’t every bullet wound damage flesh thereby making every wound a ‘flesh wound’?”

Sweets smiled a little as he tried to sit up, but the pain in his side made movement difficult. Then he remembered how he ended up here in the first place, and his eyes widened.

“Connor…” he said, but Cam put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to stay still.

“Dead,” she said. “He was going to set off that bomb, but a sniper was able to get him when he walked outside. The bomb squad was able to disarm it soon after that.” Angela and Hodgins moved closer to the bed.

“Hey sweetie, you’re a hero,” Angela said, taking his hand. “You saved Brennan, Booth and all those other people.” Sweets tried to shake his head.

“No…no, I…”

“Actually, Doctor Sweets, Andrew said that they wouldn’t have been able to stop him from detonating that bomb if you hadn’t lured him outside,” Brennan added. “So Angela’s words are not inaccurate. Thank you for saving my life. I believe we are what you call ‘even’.”

“Yeah and I guess we all know who really is the crazy one around here now,” Hodgins joked. “Going in there unarmed to confront a gun-toting, bomb-making lunatic…makes everything I’ve done seem rather tame. So I don’t want to hear any more lectures from you about the insane stuff we do.” Sweets chuckled at that and Cam rubbed his shoulder.

“All that aside, you gave us quite a scare, Doctor Sweets,” Cam said. “We’re glad that you’re all right, but I hope that we won’t be seeing a repeat performance like that from you anytime soon.”

“Believe me Doctor Saroyan, I’m looking forward to getting back behind my desk,” Sweets said. “There’s more than one reason that I’m glad that there is a rule against having firearms brought into my office.” That prompted some quiet laughter, and Sweets grinned at the faces in the room. However, he couldn’t help but notice that there was one face missing.

“Agent Booth…is he…?”

“Booth was here earlier,” Brennan answered. “But after the doctors told us you were stable, he left to finish processing the scene and to give his report to Andrew.”

“Ah,” the psychologist nodded, reaching a hand up to his head. He could feel that a bandage had been wrapped around his head, leaving his hair sticking up. His temple was still tender to the touch, and he winced when his fingers brushed by it.

Sweets did his best to hide his disappointment. He understood that there was a lot to be accounted for in the aftermath of Connor’s actions; he would have to write his own report as well at some point. Still, he thought that Booth would have at least stayed long enough for him to regain consciousness before leaving.

But then he berated himself for being childish.

 _‘This was a brutal and high-profile case, and Booth was the lead agent,’_ he thought. _‘There really was no reason for him to stay…I’m fine…’_

Soon he felt even weaker than when he first woke up and his eyelids began to droop. Angela squeezed his hand.

“Hey, Sweets, why don’t you get some rest?” she murmured. “You’ve had a long day. We’ll come back later.”

“Ok,” Sweets said, closing his eyes. Sleep did seem very appealing right then, so he let himself drift off within moments.

* * *

 

_Somehow, Sweets found himself back in the jewelry store. Connor was there and so were the corpses of the two people that he had shot. His vision became saturated with red from the blood and all he could hear was Connor screaming at him again._

_‘Lying…manipulative…you’ll pay…just like I said you would....’_

_Connor aimed the gun at him again and started to pull the trigger._

_‘No…please…I’m sorry,’ Sweets pleaded._

“Sweets? Wake up, Sweets….It’s just a dream.”

* * *

 

The psychologist shuddered violently, and his eyes flew open. He looked to see Booth standing over him and shaking his shoulder.

“Hey…are you all right?” Booth asked. Sweets nodded and reached up to feel that his hair was now damp with sweat.

“I…I’m ok,” he said, shakily. Sweets tried to sit up and reach over to the stand beside his bed, but stopped and groaned in pain from the effort.

“Lie back down,” Booth ordered. “I don’t need you tearing out your stitches. Just tell me what you want.”

“Agent Booth, it’s not that bad. I’m just a little…”

“Sweets…you had a psycho clobber you in the head and then shoot you today. You need to relax and stay still. Now, what is it you need? Are you thirsty?”

“Yes,” Sweets finally huffed, giving up. He knew that even if he was a full strength, Booth could easily overpower him, so there was no point in arguing with him now.

Booth walked over and poured him a cup of water from the pitcher on the stand. After gulping it down, Sweets settled back into his bed, and Booth resumed sitting in a chair near his bedside.

“How…how long was I out?” the psychologist asked.

“Only about a couple of hours,” Booth answered. “It’s just as well that you’re awake because one of the nurses will be coming to check on your concussion any time now.”

As if on cue, a nurse walked into the room and began to examine Sweets. After asking him a couple questions to see how lucid he was, she left the two of them alone again, making sure to inform them that she would be back in a couple hours. Booth then leaned back in his chair and sighed. Sweets looked over at him.

“Thank you for visiting me, Agent Booth,” he said. “As you can see, I’m fine. So if you had some things that you needed…”

“Just settle in, Sweets,” Booth said staring at the television on the opposite wall. “I’m staying here with you tonight, so go ahead and get some rest.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Maybe not,” the agent interrupted. “But I’m going to anyway, all right? Let me know if you need anything.”

Sweets fell silent, not knowing what to say. Even “thank you” seemed inappropriately trite in this situation. Instead he watched Booth for a couple minutes while he watched TV with the sound almost all the way down. Sweets noticed that he seemed to be agitated.

“Agent Booth, if you need to discuss something…well obviously I’m not going anywhere, so feel free to…” The psychologist halted when Booth looked back over at him and he could see the barely hidden anger in the agent’s eyes.

“Yeah, there is something I’d like to discuss,” he said. “What in the hell were you thinking, going in there? I told you to stay with the car and keep out of sight.”

“There was a mentally unstable person holding a group of people, including you and Doctor Brennan, hostage, and I was the best person to talk to him,” Sweets said, irritated. “I’m not a child.”

“But you acted almost as foolhardy as one,” Booth shot back. “Going in there unarmed and without a vest…You could have been killed.”

“While it might not have been the safest course of action, it was necessary that I not appear to be involved with the FBI. Connor is…um was paranoid of organizations that had authority. That vest practically screamed ‘law enforcement’. I had no choice but to take it off.”

Booth leaned back in his chair with a huff and ran his hands over his face. He then stared at the floor.

“Look, I know how I sound, but you need to understand that I can’t have my guys taking excessive and unnecessary risks,” he said. “I just can’t work like that…So I just need you to be more careful in the future, all right?” Booth then reached over and clasped Sweets’ shoulder.

“Besides, I…um…I want to thank you. You did a good job today, and you saved a lot of people, including me and Bones.” Sweets looked away and began to fidget.

I…I didn’t…That woman…who Connor shot…I didn’t save her. She died, all because I…”

“There was no way you could have foreseen that,” Booth argued. “And as unfortunate as that was, it does not make what you did any less valid or brave.”

Sweets try to close his eyes again, but all he could see was Connor’s face and the gun pointing at him, ready to fire. He trembled a little and sniffled. Booth leaned back toward him.

“Sweets?”  The psychologist struggled to keep his tears at bay, ashamed that his emotions were getting the better of him in front of Booth.

“Everyone keeps saying that I’m some kind of hero or that I was brave, but it’s all a sham,” Sweets said, quavering a bit. “I…I just feel scared and that doesn’t feel all that great.” Sweets stared at his lap and fidgeted some more.

“I guess…I thought that being a hero would not feel anything like this,” he continued.

“How did you think you would feel?” Booth said.

“Good…exhilarating…satisfying in some way,” Sweets shrugged.”I understand that post-traumatic stress could be clouding my feelings somewhat…But I should be better able to handle all this. I’m a trained psychologist after all.”

“Sweets…when agents stop being scared in situations like the one you were in…that’s when we send them to you,” Booth said. “The fact is, part of being a true hero is fear: it’s when we act despite our fears that we become heroic.” The agent patted his shoulder.

“Quite frankly, I’d be more disturbed if you hadn’t been afraid and weren’t affected by it now. It’s just the type of person you are, so don’t worry about the fact that you process things differently.”

“Agent Booth…thank you…for that,” Sweets mumbled. The two of them were quiet for a while. Booth flipped through the channels on the television before finally settling on a hockey game in progress.

“Sweets…there is one last thing I need to ask you about,” Booth said solemnly. “Those things you told Connor about your dad…that was your biological father, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Sweets said, swallowing hard. “My real dad…he loved me and took care of me. Connor didn’t need to know that.” Sweets gripped the sheets tightly. “I…I know this is going to seem hypocritical considering how much I ask about your father, but I just can’t…”

“You don’t need to tell me anything else,” Booth assured him. “Just tell me this: is it true that you don’t know where he is now?” Sweets hung his head.

“Yes…My dad made sure that I never saw him again after he adopted me, and I…I didn’t really want to know about him. Then or now.”

“Listen, Sweets, I don’t think you’ll ever snap and turn into some crazy who randomly shoots people and blows up buildings, but I need you to promise me something.” Sweets looked over at Booth, who was staring at him with an intense expression and became nervous.

“What is it?” the psychologist gulped.

“Promise me that if your bio dad ever decides to reappear in your life, you’ll tell me…immediately. No arguing or reasoning…just call me if he ever shows up on your doorstep. Understand?”

Sweets was initially startled by the request, but that was quickly replaced with warmth and gratitude.

“I will,” he said softly. “I promise. And…thank you.” Booth nodded and went back to watching the game.

“Good,” he said. “Now you should try to get some sleep. That nurse will be back before too long, and it’d be better if you got some rest before then.”

“Yeah,” Sweets yawned, closing his eyes. He laid back down completely, trying to get comfortable. After he was settled, Sweets felt someone pulling his blanket up over his shoulders and tucking it in. He kept his eyes closed, but smiled slightly and listened as Booth sat back down in his chair.

Sweets then relaxed into a sleep that would remain peaceful until the nurse showed up again. 


End file.
